


Catalyst

by hope_s



Series: Heistwives Toybox [1]
Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Lou POV, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Smut, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, back in the day, flashback to first time, winter morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_s/pseuds/hope_s
Summary: When Debbie comes home feeling anxious, Lou knows she needs someone else to take control for a while.
Relationships: Lou Miller & Debbie Ocean, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean
Series: Heistwives Toybox [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583962
Comments: 22
Kudos: 62





	Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrs_Ocean_Miller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Ocean_Miller/gifts).



> Also for Anonymous on tumblr, who also requested pre-canon/strap-on/first time :)

**Winter 1999**

Lou awoke to a ray of bright, wintry sunlight poking her in both eyes. She groaned and turned over, burying her face in Debbie’s pillow and pulling the blankets up to her ears. Gradually, her body awoke. She wiggled her toes and shifted her hips, registering the ghost of arousal between her thighs. She could reawaken it easily, slide her hand from its position fisting the sheets to the residual moisture between her legs, but she didn’t. Debbie would be back in a few hours, and she _could_ be patient. Probably. If she _really_ tried. Suddenly fully awake, Lou peeked out from between the blankets, blinking at the sharp brightness in the room, and sighed. Had she really gotten so used to waking up to Debbie that it was a little depressing _not_ to do so?

 _Yes_ , she answered her own question and shrugged at the truth. One shoulder edged its way out of the sheets, and she shivered at the chill in the apartment. She wanted a cigarette, but the prospect of pulling herself out of bed and stumbling to the sputtering radiator for a few minutes only to force herself to open a window and blow smoke out into the Bronx streets didn’t seem particularly inviting just yet. Lou settled into the blankets, thinking.

How long had it been since she woke up alone? Well, that was easy, really. Debbie went to visit Danny at the prison every other Thursday morning. Two weeks ago, Lou had awoken earlier than normal – alone in bed, but with Debbie click-clacking around the kitchen in stilettos that were far too tall for anything before five in the afternoon. Debbie had brought her a cup of tea and kissed her on the cheek before letting herself out into a mild February morning. This week it was colder, and Debbie would already be at the prison by now, Lou thought, rubbing her eyes to check the time on the alarm clock on Debbie’s bedside table. It was already ten, and Lou registered a dull throb in her temple that meant she should get out of bed soon or risk an annoying caffeine headache for the next few hours. She shifted her legs closer to the edge of the bed. With one arm, she flailed towards the floor to grab her flannel robe and a pair of thermal leggings that actually belonged to Debbie. They were a bit too short for Lou, but with warm socks they would do fine on a day like today. In a rustling of blankets, Lou managed to pull on the leggings and a pair of socks she found under Debbie’s bedside table. She took a deep breath, braced herself for the cold, and pushed the blankets from her chest. Breathing quickly against the chill, Lou flung the robe around her shoulders and got out of bed in one fluid motion. She shivered for a moment, rubbing her upper arms through the plaid fabric, then she curled her toes against the rug and stretched her arms over her head. She sighed, and – not for the first time – she wished Debbie were there. The apartment felt colder when she was alone.

Minutes later, Lou heaved one of the old wooden-frame windows open a crack and curled herself into an armchair with her cigarettes and lighter. The kettle was heating on the stove, metal shifting and settling with the contrast of temperature. The first drag on the cigarette was rough against the back of her throat. She watched the smoke billow and curl out of the window into the frozen air, a bit mesmerized. Back in January, she had thought about moving out of this old apartment, about finding a place in Brooklyn especially if she could get a hold of a club. But that endeavor had gone up in flames (literally), and – more importantly – Debbie Ocean had waltzed into her life, secured an impressive payout from the club that blew up, and ensconced herself in Lou’s life as surely as the old gas stove and the creaking radiators. Six weeks later, Debbie was still there, and Lou didn’t want anything to change, feared the idea of finding a new apartment because what if any small change dislodged Debbie from her side? Lou didn’t want that, marveled at herself for feeling so comfortable, and yet it was a _fact_ that she couldn’t deny. Somehow, she had irrevocably become _Debbie’s_ , and that made her feel warm despite the cold snap outside.

The screeching of the kettle interrupted Lou’s thoughts. Her cigarette was gone now, mashed to grey-blackness in the ashtray on the windowsill. She slammed the window closed and locked it before striding to the kitchen and lifting the kettle from the stove. It continued to squawk intermittently even as Lou poured boiling water over a tea bag.

“Shh,” Lou told the kettle, “you don’t get any bloody opinions.” She added a dash of milk to her tea and watched it swirl. The turntable by the window drew her eye, and Lou walked over to it. She flipped through the pile of records without really looking at the titles. They were mostly hers, but she noticed a few of Debbie’s classical recordings scattered in between. Her mouth twitched into a fond smile. She thought for a minute, then chose one of Debbie’s at random. The vinyl dropped into place with a satisfying click, and Lou set the needle with deft fingers. As she returned to her perch in the armchair and tugged a blanket across her lap, a sparse and satisfying piano melody filled the room. Lou didn’t know the title, but she knew enough about Debbie to guess it was Bach. The steam from her mug of tea rose past her face, raising welcome warmth in her cheeks.

**

_Lou pressed Debbie backwards onto the bed, lips never leaving her skin as Debbie sighed and moaned under her. Her palms slid over the warm, taut skin of Debbie’s stomach, under her shirt and up to her breasts. Debbie gasped as Lou squeezed, and Lou felt Debbie’s fingers against her chest, fiddling with her necklaces and the top button of her vest. She wanted_ more _– more warmth, more skin, more_ Debbie. _With trembling fingers, she tugged at fabric, not much caring if it was her own clothes or Debbie’s that she was pulling from their bodies. She needed to feel her, and – more surprisingly – she needed to be_ felt _. The throbbing in her core intensified, and Lou felt a rush of wetness that begged to be_ touched _. She had never wanted that before, not_ really. _Sometimes she didn’t mind either way; at other times, she kept women’s hands on her hips and chest. But this time…Debbie was different, and Lou didn’t know why. Even after only a week of knowing each other, Lou felt a change. She_ wanted _Debbie – under her, over her…_ in _her?_

Yes _, Lou thought to herself._ Oh, God, yes. _She kissed Debbie’s neck, worked her hands over her and pulled her up the bed until they were lying side-by-side, bodies flush against each other._

_“What do you like?” Debbie asked between kisses, breath tickling Lou’s shoulder._

_“It’s different every time,” Lou said. It was a lie, more or less. Up until now, she had always liked the same thing – control. She liked her strap, liked a willing tongue between her legs, and not much else. But with Debbie…_

_“Is this okay?” Debbie asked, mirroring the patterns Lou was subconsciously tracing on Debbie’s stomach._

_“Yes.” And it was. Lou felt inexplicably safe even as Debbie’s fingers dipped lower. She brought her own hand to Debbie’s, guided her downwards. “I’ve never wanted anyone inside me before you,” Lou found herself saying. It was true, but she hadn’t expected to say it. She felt rather than heard the sound that emanated from Debbie’s chest in response to the words._

_Debbie pulled back for a moment, fingers dancing lightly over Lou’s clit. “_ Fuck _,” she muttered. “Are you_ sure _?”_

 _Lou laughed softly into Debbie’s neck. “_ Please _.”_

**

Lou opened her eyes, not having realized that she had shut them. Music still filled the apartment, spritely and complex now. Lou blushed. She had caught herself daydreaming – daydreaming _while listening to Debbie’s music_. Her edges had softened in the months since she had met Debbie – something that hadn’t happened with anyone else. What _was_ it about her? It made her desperate to give Debbie everything she could, which wasn’t much, perhaps, but still…Lou could – Lou _would_ – fall apart for her. Debbie had turned her world upside down, had shown Lou a different side to herself, one that she was very grateful to have met.

Lou let herself relax into the armchair. She drank her tea and listened to Bach, starting the record over once it had spun out. Down below, the noisy bustle of New York rumbled beneath everything, a constant white noise that was _home_. Eventually, sharp footsteps cut through the rush of people across pavement, and Lou shifted to look out of the window. It took her less than three seconds to spot Debbie’s confident stride, weaving between passers-by like the wind – steady and sure. Lou narrowed her eyes, calculating. Something was wrong. In the fifteen seconds or so that she watched Debbie approach their building, she didn’t note a single theft. The day was perfect for Debbie’s usual games – big coats to hide thick wallets, people hurrying to-and-fro with hats pulled low over their ears like blinders. But Debbie walked on, hands hidden, arms folded against her chest in a show of self-protection. A hint of unease grew in Lou’s stomach.

Debbie very nearly fell as she entered the apartment, tripping over her own feet in her haste to get inside and slam the door. Lou pulled herself somewhat gracelessly from the armchair and rushed forward to catch her, but Debbie righted herself and gave Lou a withering look. She kicked her shoes in the corner and trudged to the kettle, checked to make sure there was enough water, and turned on the stove.

“Goldberg Variations,” she muttered.

“What?” Lou asked.

Debbie looked up, stared at Lou as if her eyes could see right through her to something far away. “Bach,” she said shortly.

“Oh, you mean that?” Lou asked gesturing towards the turn-table. “Yeah, I…I missed you this morning.” She smiled at Debbie, tried to keep the concern out of her face.

Debbie swallowed hard and looked away from Lou, down at her fingers, which tapped a violent asynchronous rhythm against the edge of the counter-top. Lou stepped closer to her, tried to read the emotions flickering across Debbie’s face, but they were here and gone in the blink of an eye, one after another. The tension in Debbie’s jaw looked painful.

“How’s Danny?” Lou asked hesitantly.

Debbie scoffed. “Annoying.”

“Anything specific?”

Debbie shrugged and turned to pour her tea. “Not really,” she sighed.

Lou saw Debbie’s fingers shake as she raised a hand to card her fingers through her hair. Not for the first time, Lou cursed Danny for having so much power over Debbie’s mood. Did he _know_ how devoted she was? Lou sucked her teeth and turned on her heel before Debbie could read any anger in her expression. “Do you want me to keep the music on?” she asked without looking at her. 

“No,” Debbie said at once, “I…well, _yes_ , I’ll…” Lou paused in front of the turntable, turning her head over the shoulder to watch her. Debbie squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ll fix it. I’m sorry,” Debbie said shortly.

“Yeah, of course.” Lou stayed close as Debbie made her way to the stack of records and pulled out one that Lou hadn’t seen before. There was a picture of an organ on the cover and the edges were tattered. Debbie removed the Goldberg Variations from under the needle with reverence that belied her anxious state. Lou slipped the vinyl into its sleeve as Debbie started the other recording. At once, the echo of an organ played to its limit filled the cramped apartment. Lou took a step back, surprised by the aggression, by the way Debbie went rigid at the first notes, her knuckles as white as the ceramic mug she clutched in her hand. Debbie’s eyes darted around the room, never focusing anywhere for long, though when her gaze fell on Lou there was a hint of apology in it that screamed, _you shouldn’t have to see this_. And Lou knew there was nothing she could say that would make Debbie understand that she _wanted_ to see her, that she didn’t care what sort of fucked-up thoughts were flooding Debbie’s brain. She wanted to reach out, but it wasn’t time for that, yet, and so, Lou retreated to the sofa and watched Debbie implode.

At first, Debbie stood still, eyes tracing lines around the room. Every so often, she raised her cup of tea to her lips and took a sip in a robotic, forced way. The music shifted to a hypnotic melody, and Debbie moved. Lou was relieved at first, glad that Debbie had unfrozen, but then she noticed a freneticism to Debbie’s pacing, an extra step here or there that turned Lou’s stomach. Debbie moved, and now _Lou_ was the one frozen, paralyzed by the music and the deafening noise of her own unease. The sweet safety of Debbie’s embrace seemed like a fantasy, insubstantial as Lou’s daydreams, because the Debbie in front of her was colder than ice and as intangible as the music that filled the air. Lou felt her knees beginning to complain from being curled so long under her, but she didn’t move, unable to look away from Debbie, though she wanted nothing more than to bury her face in her hands until it was over – whatever _it_ was.

It went on like that for a long time. Perhaps Debbie started the music again – Lou wasn’t sure. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help, yet something told her that this wasn’t new, that as painful and uncomfortable as this was, it was Debbie’s way of healing. Lou felt tears in her eyes, swallowed around a lump in her throat. There was an intimacy to this that scared her as much as the thing itself. Something told Lou that Debbie had never fallen apart like this in front of anyone, and the fact that she would _in front of Lou_ …It was overwhelming. Gradually, Debbie’s movements slowed, and at last, she sank to the floor and let the final notes of the music die. A ringing silence fell. Lou watched the steady rise and fall of Debbie’s chest, and after the space of several breaths, Lou mustered the courage to speak.

“Debbie,” she said, “what’s wrong?” Debbie lay spread-eagled on the floor, but she turned her head ever so slightly in Lou’s direction, eyes searching and finally locking onto Lou’s gaze. “Debbie,” Lou said again, “what can I do?” Debbie stared at her, and for the first time in many minutes, Lou saw _her_ Debbie looking back at her. There was still frustration and something close to fear in Debbie’s eyes, but behind the expression there was an acknowledgement of Lou’s presence, of _them_. Debbie flashed a humorless, self-deprecating smile and got to her feet. She crossed the floor in swift strides that bore no hint of erraticism and stood looking down at Lou. Lou let her feet fall to the floor, sat back against the tattered couch cushions, and looked up at Debbie above her, waiting. 

“Lou…”

Lou swallowed to contain a gasp because Debbie’s voice was her own, and her eyes were wide and brown and _hers_. She opened her mouth to speak, but all at once Debbie was in her lap and kissing her with abandon. The gasp escaped this time, sucked in from Debbie’s lips as Lou parted hers. Debbie moaned against her, the movement of her mouth messy and soft. Lou pressed forward, teeth dragging across Debbie’s lower lip. Her hands found Debbie’s hips and gripped tightly as Debbie rolled them against her.

“Debs, _Debbie_ …” Lou stammered.

“Kiss me.”

“ _Debbie,_ are you okay?” Lou asked. “Are you sure?” There was heat in Lou’s core and a pleasant prickling in her finger tips, but Debbie’s behavior still made her nervous, gave her pause.

Debbie tugged at Lou’s bottom lip with her teeth as she pulled back to meet her gaze. “Lou,” she said again, “please.” Her jaw was set, and Lou recognized for the very first time that, while other people had a tell when they lied, Debbie Ocean had a tell for honesty. Lou’s gaze traced the taut muscles in her jaw and then flicked back up to her eyes.

Lou took a deep breath, wondering. The control that Debbie had hitherto shown in the bedroom didn’t quite fit this situation, and Lou had a feeling she wanted something _else_ , wanted Lou to call the shots, perhaps. It was a risk, though. Lou didn’t want to make Debbie uncomfortable, especially on a day when she was clearly already reeling from something Danny had said or done during the visit at the prison. Debbie kissed Lou again, slower this time, but just as passionately, and Lou responded experimentally, licking into Debbie’s mouth. Debbie seemed to melt, and Lou made up her mind.

“I have an idea,” Lou murmured, running her hands soothingly over Debbie’s back as Debbie trailed kisses across her jaw to a sensitive spot under her ear. A shiver flowed through Lou as Debbie sucked a mark and hummed her interest in Lou’s suggestion. “Do you want me to _fuck_ you, Debbie?” Lou asked, voice low and rough – a tone she hadn’t used with Debbie.

Debbie pulled back once more, eyes shining and wide, lips parted and kiss-swollen and oh, so beautiful. “Yes,” she replied firmly. “Please, baby.”

**

Lou knelt over her, fingers stroking through the wet heat between Debbie’s legs. She dipped inside, and Debbie whimpered. The sun had shifted to the other side of the building, but it was still bright in the bedroom. There were clothes scattered around them despite the lingering chill in the apartment. Lou took in every curve, every angle of Debbie lying beneath her. She pressed towards her, wanting Debbie’s warmth against her skin, and sank two fingers inside her. Lou moved slowly – just the steady thrusting of her fingers and their bodies close and straining. It didn’t take long for Debbie to tremble and muffle a cry in Lou’s neck. Lou let her relax into the mattress and then sat back on her heels to spread lube over the red strap-on between her legs. Debbie watched her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“What do you like, Debs?” Lou asked softly, echoing the question Debbie had asked all those weeks ago on their first night together. 

Debbie smiled and bent her knees on either side of Lou, pulling her thighs further apart. “Want you on top of me.”

Lou smiled and moved forward on her knees until the tip of the strap nudged Debbie’s clit, already sensitive from her first orgasm. Debbie groaned, head falling back onto the pillows as she hooked her hands behind her knees and tugged her legs back towards her chest. Lou hummed appreciatively, her own arousal throbbing between her legs at the sight before her. She scratched lightly up and down Debbie’s inner thighs and watched goosebumps rise in the wakes of her fingers.

“Fuck me, Lou,” Debbie said in a strained voice. “Come on, baby.”

Lou laughed softly and leaned forward, reaching between their bodies to rub the strap through Debbie’s folds. Debbie moaned again, and at last, Lou positioned herself and pushed forward. She could almost come just from that first moment, Lou thought. The way Debbie’s body yielded to her, it was intoxicating. Debbie’s eyes fluttered shut, and her lips parted. Lou couldn’t resist bending her head to kiss them, and Debbie responded eagerly. Lou slid inside her inch by inch until their hips brushed and Debbie bottomed out on the toy. Lou paused, kissing Debbie fiercely before grinding her hips against her. She established a rhythm – firm, deep thrusts that had Debbie whimpering within minutes.

The sound of her, the feel of her…Lou couldn’t believe they hadn’t done this before. She could feel herself getting wet under the toy, and the friction was delicious each time she thrust into Debbie. Soon, she was panting, too. She shifted to place her weight on one hand and slid a hand between their bodies. Debbie arched into her touch, and Lou fought the urge to linger longer on her breasts as she noticed Debbie’s thighs trembling.

“You’re close?” Lou breathed in Debbie’s ear.

“So close, baby,” Debbie murmured back. Lou smiled against Debbie’s neck and scratched her fingernails against Debbie’s stomach. Debbie drew a shuddering breath. “Touch me,” she muttered. Lou moved her fingers with more purpose, hips never ceasing their steady thrusts. Debbie quivered as Lou slid over her clit, lightly at first, but then with increasing pressure until Debbie was gasping. Lou felt her own arousal building in her core, coiling tight. She pressed into Debbie on each thrust and moved her fingers in tight circles. Debbie jerked and pulsed beneath her, and with a final roll of her hips, Lou tipped herself over the edge, shaking. Lou was coaxed back to the present by Debbie’s hands running up and down her back. She slid the toy out of Debbie inch-by-inch until it hung heavy between her legs once more, glistening with Debbie’s arousal now.

“Jesus, Debs, you’re so wet,” Lou muttered, tongue heavy and honest after the force of her release.

“Mm hmm, always wet for you.” Lou watched as Debbie slid a hand down her body into the moisture between her legs, caressing herself.

Lou hastened to undo the harness and set it aside before repositioning herself on her stomach between Debbie’s thighs. “Let me do that,” Lou murmured, reaching out to move Debbie’s hand away and entwining their fingers against Debbie’s abdomen. Debbie’s looked surprised for a moment, but then Lou ran the flat of her tongue from her entrance to her clit, and Debbie’s eyes rolled back. Her lips parted with a gasp that sounded mysteriously like Lou’s name.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Debbie whispered as Lou sucked hard, tongue flicking across over-stimulated nerves.

“Can you come for me again, honey?” Lou asked casually between licks.

Debbie nodded vigorously and tilted her pelvis towards Lou, seeking friction, which Lou was only too willing to provide. The salty tang of Debbie on Lou’s tongue, the scent of sex that already hung in the room, the feel of her fingers threading into her hair – it was enough to raise a wave of wetness between Lou’s legs, too. She reached down and pressed two fingertips against her own clit as she worked her lips and tongue over Debbie’s. Lou could have stayed there all afternoon, even though her jaw was sore and the position of her neck was less than ideal, but Debbie was already quivering – her third orgasm approaching more quickly than the previous two. Lou rubbed herself more firmly and sucked hard around Debbie’s clit. Debbie cried out and dug her heels into Lou’s shoulders as she came in a rush of salty arousal that flooded Lou’s tongue and dripped onto the sheets below her. Lou rolled her hips against her hand and found her own release, keeping her mouth on Debbie as she rode the waves of it to a sated warmth.

Lou kept licking her – slowly now, with less and less pressure. At last, she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth and chin on the back of her hand. A faint blush of pink rose in Debbie’s cheeks as she watched her. She reached out for Lou, and Lou fell into her arms, kissing her slowly, letting Debbie taste herself. Lou remembered the anxiety, the coldness in Debbie’s expression earlier and wondered how one person could contain such genuine ice and infectious warmth all at once. The movements of Debbie’s mouth slowed against Lou’s, lazy pressure tapering to breaths with foreheads resting against one another.

“Thank you,” Debbie whispered, voice ragged in a fulfilled sort of way.

“Did it help?”

Debbie turned over and nestled her back against Lou’s front, pulling one of Lou’s arms around her and playing with her fingers. “Yes,” she said sleepily.

“I’m glad.” Lou buried her face in Debbie’s hair, felt Debbie’s breathing slow as she drifted off. She shifted to pull a blanket over them and looked at Debbie, bathed in afternoon light, at peace, asleep. There was no doubt that Lou liked being Debbie’s. She liked the way Debbie pressed her against walls, the way she elicited sounds from Lou that hadn’t existed before _them_. But equally, and more profoundly at _this_ moment, Lou couldn’t quite believe that Debbie was hers. She wasn’t a naturally possessive person, nor was she under any delusion that Debbie was anything less than completely independent. Still, this new, vulnerable side of Debbie Ocean was a privilege to witness, and Lou wasn’t about to take it for granted. She took a deep breath of Debbie’s scent – vanilla shampoo and a hint of stolen perfume. Tugging Debbie tight against her, Lou let her mind fall blissfully blank, and she slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wife go_get_your_top_hat for always beta-ing <3 :)
> 
> If you want to request a fic for this toybox series, please let me know in a comment on here or find me on tumblr at estel-of-irysi. 
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day! Thank you for reading.


End file.
